Chapter 7

Mary sighed, her breath warming Clarice's open quim; the former housekeeper relished the rewards of power. True, she serviced Clarice like a paid whore, but others, her underlings - worshiped her a similar way. Soft lips closed around the tip of each of her ample breasts, and a most delightful nibbling brought her nubbin close to spending. She even celebrated the writhing tongue that probed her trembling buttocks, darting insistently across her darkened rosebud.

Dashwood gazed on, his bulbous eyes drinking the debauched scene with very apparent relish. Carelessly he drove his pego into the wet mouth that worshiped him. William was less comfortable, but still happy to be of service to his master. He gagged as the hot seed poured down his throat, he disliked the salty taste, but the other taste compensated. Reverend Pearson had discovered just how much he enjoyed the flavour of power. He even managed to smile as Albert withdrew his now flaccid organ from between his bruised, slimy lips.

"Now, sweet William, we should prepare for our guest's arrival, your detective should be with us soon." Dashwood cooed.

"Yes, Holmes and his partner should be with us by now, perhaps they are waiting for the morrow?"

"Partner? Why have you said nothing of this previously! It is the detective the illuminati desire, not his hangers-on."

"I apologise most humbly master. I did not realise." William grovelled.

"Never mind, we just need a diversion - tell me does this 'partner' seem an honourable fellow?"

"Yes, I would say so - he seemed very gentlemanly when attending to me." Pearson answered.

"Excellent," Dashwood cackled, "then we shall provide him with a damsel in distress, Mary should play the part well. But you must too, do you understand dear boy?"

"No, what are you suggesting? Nothing unsavoury I trust." William frowned.

"Unsavoury!" Albert guffawed his derision, "not compared to what you have already undertaken. You just have to strike her -hard, she will do the rest. I shall brief her."

"Strike Mary! Sir, I object - I am no woman beater."

Dashwood grabbed Pearson by the throat, he drew him close -until their noses almost touched. He gazed his contempt into the vicars shocked orbits.

"You, William will do as you are told. No more, and certainly no less. Do not dare to fail me!"

"No, master. I understand master..." William coughed.

Dashwood threw Pearson to the floor violently.

"With power comes responsibility sweet William. You would do well to remember that."

William said no more, he just nodded his submission.

The night wore on, and a disgruntled individual slowly extricated his body from its trap. In total darkness he stumbled on, splashing water in his blind wake. His unprotected hands clawed their way along the walls, at last he found an opening. Shivering he drew his body from the water and onto the gritty bank. There his sore right hand struck something metallic - a lamp! Urgently he rummaged in his pockets for his tinder box, he just prayed it was dry. A second later a warm yellow light burst forth - temporarily he was blinded.

His tired eyes slowly focussed, the first thing he saw was the empty plinth, and then another lamp laying on the caves floor. Events started to come back to him, in desperation he swung around, almost falling. Clumsily he staggered into the inner temple - the icon was gone!

"No!" Ripped from his parched lips.

He had to get to the surface soon, find the icon and rectify this mess. Just then the lamp spluttered, and darkness returned. Cursing his luck the large man groped his way back to the other lamp, soon it was lit. He stared down unbelieveingly at the damp oily patch soaking into the cave floor. He shook the lamp in his hand, nothing - it too was almost empty.

"Damn this country and its feeble-minded inhabitants!" He screamed to the glistening walls. His rage echoed and returned to him, a mockery of his original outburst. Urgently he started back towards the entrance, fifty yards later the lamp was hurled aside as it too became useless. He crawled on regardless, ignoring the cobs of flesh that were torn from him by unseen outcrops.

Pain and frustration almost defeated him, but his purpose drove him on. He had given it all up for this, his home, his love, his life. All was expendable in his need for, thirst for - more power. Delirium took his mind back through the years, back to his small farrier's shop in Bavaria. Above the door hung his old name 'Hans Bueller', once more he could hear his wife's voice call him to his tea. He walked into the cosy kitchen, and gazed down lovingly at the small boy. Franz returned his warm smile.

Tears flowed from Hans's eyes, but with a supreme effort of will he pushed the past away. Back to where it belonged. It was too late, all had been forsaken, and all was gone. Long gone. At last he fell through the entrance to the caves. Although dawn had just arrived hailing the coming day, the exhausted, broken man collapsed - into a deep, restorative sleep.

Hove whistled merrily as he walked along the country track.

"Glad to see you in such good form this morning Brighton, I feared for your health last night." Holmes said cheerily.

"Takes more then some damnable Hun to bring me down Holmes, my old chap."

"I wish I had your outlook on life Hove, my take is somewhat darker."

"Now do not get maudlin again, we have nearly cracked this case." Hove smiled.

"Ha! There you go once more, the eternal optimist." Holmes quipped, "Still I must say it is a splendid day."

The friends walked on a few hundred yards in merry conversation, before things took a very odd turn. A wild man stepped out in front of them, he brandished a broken branch -which he thrust at them with gusto. He growled and grunted incoherently for several seconds before beginning what became a tirade of abuse.

"Now I have yea! Not so clever now are you, you damnable heretics. I may be but an old man with a staff, but David slew Goliath did he not! I may die in the process, but I shall take one of yea devils to hell with me, I'll venture!" He snarled, "Devil got your tongues - come now demons say something!"

"I'm sorry sir have we by chance trespassed on your land. If you would forgive us, we are not locals." Holmes replied calmly, without ever taking his eyes off the pointed end of the wavering staff.